


The Wayward Boy

by Zootopon



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham Knight Genesis (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: BAMF Jason Todd, Finding Oneself, Gen, It's Jason what did you expect, Jason Todd Grows Up, Jason Todd is Robin, Maturity, Personal Growth, Running away from home, soldier!jason, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-09-05 14:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16812691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zootopon/pseuds/Zootopon
Summary: Jason’s 15. Not old enough to drink but still knows enough to break a man 10 different ways before they could blink. If that doesn’t make people question Bruce’s psychological state as a person, let alone a parent, then he doesn’t know what will.He runs because he's not needed anymore. Because Bruce took away everything that ever meant anything to him, leaving him as just plain old Jason Todd.He runs because at least he can keep his head held high.





	1. Hero of his own story

He’s been fired.

Simple as that.

No more Robin. No more Boy Wonder. Bruce took the greatest thing that ever happened in his shitty life and ripped it away from him. Calling him unstable, volatile, and disobedient.

Like he doesn’t do it himself. He’s a walking furry. A man hell-bent on the promise of his childhood self. A downright hypocritical prick.

Jason’s 15. Not old enough to drink but still knows enough to break a man 10 different ways before they could blink. If that doesn’t make people question Bruce’s psychological state as a person, let alone a parent, then he doesn’t know what will.

Jason’s 15. He’s running away from home…no, not home, he’s running away from the Manor. That was never a home and he was a fool to ever believe it was. Bruce took away his purpose and thinks that he’ll be an obedient little bitch that stands around and follows his whims? _Hell no._

Jason’s 15. He’s leaving everything he learned and loved behind. He knows that Bruce loves him. He knows that Dick is only angry at Bruce. He knows that Al and Babs will be sad when he’s gone.

But he runs anyway. Because it’s Bruce. It’s always about Bruce. The world magically revolves around him and everyone that says otherwise is wrong. _Fuck_ him.

Because Bruce will say some bullshit excuse about protecting him and helping him, when he’s too much of a coward to admit that if he ever cared about Jason’s or Dick’s safety, he would have never created the Robin legacy.

No, this was about Gotham’s safety, not his.

Jason’s 15 and he’s on his own…again. Sheila is alive, but there is no way in hell he’s ever going to look for her. He’s had enough experience with shitty parents to know that if the bitch left him with Willis, of all people, in a dingy apartment with rodents and rats, then nothing good will ever come in finding her.

Jason’s alone.

And for the first time in years, he doesn’t care. He survived the worst of the worst for three years before Bruce picked him up. This time with a stack of _borrowed_ cash and the skills of a Robin, he’ll go even further.

Fuck Batman and his unattainable benchmarks.

Fuck Bruce and his comparison to the golden child.

Fuck Dick and his asshatery.

Fuck Gotham.

There is no way he’s staying here. Too many bad memories. Too many _good_ memories. He would travel. Live life like any other kid who wants to explore the world and ‘find’ themselves. Whatever the fuck that means.

Out of Gotham. Away from the pain, away from the heartbreak, away from Bruce. Because despite what Bruce says, thinking his word is the fucking gospel, at the end of the day, he only cares about Gotham and once Jason has crossed the state border, then Bruce will stop caring about him as well.

It’s always about Gotham. Not Dick, not Alfred, not even his dead parents and certainly not Jason. Just Gotham.

And it hurt, it _fucking hurt,_ knowing that once Jason was no longer a problem for Bruce, he’ll just slap the Robin colours on another starry, bright-eyed kid, too naïve to know how the world works and demand the impossible from him.

And Bruce will fuck it up, just like he did to Dick, just like he did to Jason, and blame it on the kid. Bruce will make him think that all his failures, all his shortcomings were the kids fault and never have to balls to look in a goddamn mirror and ask the hard question.

_Am I enough?_

Jason feels bad about leaving. Not because of Bruce or any of the others. Because he feels guilty about the burden the kid will undoubtedly carry once he completes his training. A small part of him is telling him to go back and bear that burden so no-one else should.

But the rest of him is screaming at him to keep on running. The rest of him is replaying that look of disappointment on Bruce’s face whenever he wasn’t like the great and wonderful, Dick Grayson. The rest of him is urging him on because Bruce took the first chance he could to take away the only thing that ever truly mattered to him.

He was done being an object of comparison. He was done being a tool in a crusade that didn’t work. He’s not done being a Robin but Bruce took away his magic, so it wasn’t hard to make the decision to leave.

He’s not going to stand around and be Bruce’s _son._ Bruce adopted him because he needed a Robin. Becoming his son came second.

Now that Robin was no longer a part of his life, then what’s the fucking point.

He couldn’t be Robin. He couldn’t be the hero that stood side by side with Batman and clean up the streets of Gotham.

Jason wasn’t Robin, not anymore.

But there are more ways to be a hero.

~

He travelled quite a bit. Singapore, Brazil, New Mexico, Nepal, Russia.

Everything was so vibrant and alive that left Jason reeling at everything he had been denied access to. People survived, lived, or thrived off the offerings of the world and just _be._ Be themselves, unrestrained by feelings of guilt and inferiority.

It taught him that his life could be more than just blood and battarangs. That his life could be more than just Bruce Wayne’s son or Dick Grayson’s replacement.

He was done being the second choice, the shadow to the legend or the charity case for the rich. He was his own man and now he was carving his own destiny.

He ends up in London somehow and for some reason he likes it. He likes the constant foreboding clouds that tells a story of oncoming rain. He enjoys the posh and proper accents of the average Englishman greeting him as they pass by.

He ends up staying and living there. The rain reminds him of Gotham. A Gotham without the Bat and filled with way too many Alfreds that makes his head spin.

Everything is peaceful and he doesn’t have to dress up every night because some asshole decided his dick is bigger than someone else’s.

Over the pond, he hears news about aliens invading Metropolis and a doctor in Africa that had been Joker gassed.

It hurt him deeply, feeling like he was running away from such responsibilities, that he’s too much of a coward and a weakling to do what’s right. That people are getting hurt and he’s over here sipping tea and reading books.

The guilt eats away at him, making him feel worthless without the Robin title. That he shouldn’t be allowed to enjoy his life whilst people suffer through theirs.

But he remembers that damn look of disappointment on Bruce’s face, the death of that sweet young girl that committed suicide because some punk bitch thought he was king of the world. He remembers how quickly Bruce believed he was a cold-blooded killer and how remorseless he was when he took away his identity.

So, _no_. Just like everyone else, his cards were handed to him and he’ll play them how he wishes.

~

He’s 18 now. Fully recovered from his malnourishment and finished high school with honours. Somewhere, deep in his heart, he held on to this hope that Bruce would come for him. That Bruce would want him back and Dick wouldn’t be a dick anymore.

But here he is, standing in line to be enlisted, in the most surveillance city in the world and Bruce is nowhere in sight.

He had heard the news about the new kid Bruce had adopted…poor kid. Hope he doesn’t break too soon.

It only confirmed what Bruce thought of him. That anything outside of Gotham is unimportant. That he was about to learn how to be a _true_ soldier, with guns and death and Bruce doesn’t give a shit unless it’s Gotham.

So he decides to be a hero once again.

~

His commanding officers are amazed at how efficient and effective he was.

He had blitzed through all physical examinations breaking records set by military legends and excelled in intelligence work that rivalled some of the best spies and analysts alive and spoke more languages than even their best translator.

In their eyes, he was a prodigy. Sure, he was insubordinate and picked fights with other cadets, but only to defend the honour of others.

They would watch how he was harassed constantly by some jocks that looked like they were on steroids and not bat an eyelid, but the moment someone picked on the scrawny I.T kid in the corner, hospital visits ensued.

Everything he did, every penalty he received was for someone else, never for himself.

He makes a reputation for himself and an unspoken agreement is made. You only go up against him if you have a kink for pain.

It didn’t take long for high ranked officials to take notice and he’s immediately fast tracked into the Special Air Service (SAS). One of the best special forces units in the world, who stood alongside other greats such as Delta Force, Seal Team Six and Army Rangers.

The training, like any other Special Forces regiment, is gruelling. Long, sleepless hours with commanding officers screaming his name, forcing him to live in the dirt with only a pocket knife to defend himself, thinking this snot-nosed brat doesn’t have what it takes.

None of them know that he was already used to such conditions long before his adoptive ex-father ever took him in.

He excelled in everything he put his mind to. Counter-terrorism was a joke, covert reconnaissance was simple, hostage negotiations were finished in mere seconds and front-line missions where death looked like the only option were a walk in the park.

Behind closed doors, spoken in hushed whispers, they refer to him as the Second Deathstroke.

~

He’s 22 now, laying down inside the office of his therapist.

Soft carpet, low lit room, gentle colour coordination filled with crisp, cool air from the air conditioner.

It was a standard psyche evaluation. Something that is required for soldiers before they are placed back in active duty.

“What can you tell me about your father?” She asked gently, her sole attention on him, with eyes that showed him a gentleness he’s not used to.

“Which one?” He mused, because if he was going to talk about _both_ Willis and Bruce, then an hour was not long enough.

“Whichever one you want to talk about.” She answered straightforwardly, understanding there was a lot more to the young man than he let on.

He let the silence hang out a bit, thinking of what to say, wanting to deal with his problems but also not revealing any names.

“He was…a good dad.” He didn’t evaluate which one and she didn’t push. “He wasn’t always there for me and I understand that, he was a busy guy with a business to run and problems of his own to deal with, but he was a good dad.”

Jason swallows, looking back at the memories. “Whenever he had the time he would take me out to ball games or listened to what I did in school that day. Like for a brief moment in time, I was all that mattered, you know? Like everything else was irrelevant and all that existed was me and my old man.”

She nodded thoughtfully, but never responded and kept waiting. “My brother was shit. He blamed me for his and dad’s relationship going to hell. I know where his problem was, _he_ knew where his problem was but he still took it out on me and expected me to clean up the mess. I don’t blame him, I really don’t, because pops did the same thing to me not long after our falling out.”

“And just like your brother, you felt replaceable? That those memories and moments were a farce?” She asked, gently prying for more information.

“Replaceable? Yes. Everything a lie? I…I don’t know.” He answered hesitantly. “He loves me…he _loved_ me but only when it’s convenient for him. That when I’m not who he wants me to be then all that love and promises of safety means jack.”

“Any other family members?”

“My grandpa and big sister were awesome. I haven’t seen them in a while, and I know that I’ll probably never see them again.”

“Why not?” She asked, genuinely curious.

He opened his mouth but realised that he was about to reveal too much. Can’t talk about capes, secret identities and all that jazz.

He shrugs from his position. “It doesn’t really matter. I know my gramps and big sis still loves me but at the end of the day, no matter what they say, it’s always about _him_. That when push comes to shove, they always side with him, no matter how much they agree with me or think he’s wrong, they’ll stand by him.”

She doesn’t ask any more questions and he’s glad she doesn’t.

The rest of the hour is filled with the scratching of pen against paper and the lingering memories of good times.

~

It’s been 8 years since he ran away. 8 years where he fended for himself and truly broadened his horizons without Bruce hammering into him _his_ version of what’s right and wrong.

The Trinity and a few Titans are visiting his base today. Something to do with inspiring moral to the troops or some other bullshit that Jason doesn’t really care about.

Superman and Wonder Woman are walking alongside the base general shining their pearly whites and playing their part as the symbol of hopes they are.

The Flash, his once tormentor Wally, is happily shaking hands and taking selfies alongside Nightwing whilst Batgirl, Red Robin and Batman are looking over the base’s digital equipment to look for any irregularities that could be detrimental to the nation’s security.

A few other heroes are scattered about but he doesn’t really care about them. They made it pretty clear during his Robin days that Jason Todd will never be Dick Grayson. They didn’t give him a time of day when they first met him, so he highly doubts they’ll recognise him now, all grown up with chiselled looks.

So he keeps his eyes on the heroes that did matter. The ones that _might_ recognise him.

Andrew, one of the I.T kids he helped during his cadet days was having the time of his life chatting up Batgirl whilst sending some not so discreet glances at Barbara’s ass. Both Tim and Jason tried their best to maintain their composure watching the interaction, clearly enjoying the looks of barely restrained rage permeating from Dick.

Of course, Batman goes and ruins all the fun, scaring the crap out of the poor kid, leaving behind an almost whimpering mess in his wake.

They are invited into the mess hall with the rest of the troops and enjoy lunch with them. They banter, and chat, with some idiots thinking they can beat Wonder Woman in an arm wrestling competition.

_Oh, you poor, naïve fools._

The Titans and Superman are herded into the middle of the room, as the boys and girls hound them with questions hoping one of them would slip and give them a clue to their identities.

They don’t.

Although Wally was very close to doing so.

From the looks of it Dick was still pissed at the way Andrew looked at Barbara and kept a visual on the young man the entire time.

His anger did not go unnoticed, especially when the poor kid closed in on himself further and proceeded to move across the room to sit next to Jason. A comfort he used to do during their cadet days, relying on the quiet promise that Jason made to protect him whenever he can.

His movement caught the attention of _everyone_ and a few of the jackasses Jason put in place all those years back thought of the rather ingenious plan to have a mock sparring match between the S.A.S’s prodigal son and Batman’s first Robin.

Cheers and chants rung out of the mess hall and Jason groaned in annoyance for leaving his quarters that day. Dick, the showman that he was, had already accepted the fight and came bounding over flashing his perfect grin extending a hand of peace.

For Dick, this was the perfect opportunity to spout some bullshit about commitment and hard work. If you’re focused enough you can be as good as a Bat, too.

What he failed to mention was that in order to be a Bat, one would need a few billion dollars casually laying around somewhere.

Flicking his hand away, Jason silently made his way outside onto the track field. Plenty of room for spectators. Andrew kept apologising relentlessly, realising Jason was going to get hurt because of his actions.

Jason dismissed it, because a part of him, the part that was a discarded kid, the part that was shunned for being a street kid, the part that had been ignored by his supposed brother for years yearned for this chance.

Dick was practically offering himself on a silver platter, with his super uncle, overbearing father and way out of his league girlfriend watching.

Jason would be a fool for letting this chance go.

Diana steps up and begins listing some rules and regulations down. Something to do with excessive force and stopping when the opponent yields or is unable to fight back. The rules are supposed to be for both sides but Jason could tell that these rules were directed at Dick, not Jason.

Jason had to bite his tongue from smiling sadistically.

The heroes only saw the army man, not bothering to check behind the layers of muscle and bravado he invoked. No-one, _absolutely_ , no-one knew about Jason’s out of work activities.

Slade is one tough bastard and an even tougher teacher.

There is a reason why he’s cocky and confident in himself.

He earned it.

The troops and Bats think Dick would beat him in under a minute.

Jason breaks him in half that time.

Two broken fingers, some cracked ribs, bloodied nose, black eye and a dislocated shoulder. Nothing permanent. Nothing that Dick had never felt before or couldn’t endure but it sent a very clear message.

Jason was a one man army and no-one should ever stand in his way.

Wally charges at him, intending to push him off his best friend. Little did he, or anyone for that matter, expect the titan of a man to sidestep and catch his wrist, flipping him over his shoulder and pin him to the ground.

Jaws dropped at how quickly he moved, predicting his opponent’s movement and using it against him. It was then that Dick and the rest realised how much they underestimated the man.

After Jason picked Wally up and shoved him back into Tim’s arms, Batman finally decides then and there that he should try his _I am night_ routine on him.

None of Jason’s boys liked that. He was one of them. A brother. A good man and if Batman thinks he can push around their friend like that, he had another thing coming. Even the asshole jocks step in.

An army base lead by an ex-Robin versus the Bats. Ain’t that a fight worth watching?

Holding up his hand, silencing the threats his boys and girls sent over, Jason walked up mere inches away from Bruce with his own _I am night_ routine and stared the man down.

God, did he want to punch him.

Opting for the more personal hurt, he turned his head to the recovering Bat and casted a shark like grin. “You’ve lost your touch, Dickhead. Too many donuts lately?”

He could hear a pin drop from the silence.

The troops stood in stunned silence trying to wrap their heads around what happened. _Who the hell was Jason?_ They knew he was a skilled intelligence officer. They knew he was well connected. They did not know this.

But none of their reactions could possibly compare to the Bats and Titans. What the troops thought Jason had used as an insult, they knew he referred to him by name. He asked about an eating habit that was commonly associated with Nightwing.

This Jason knew Dick. He knew him personally and it terrified them.

That was when Batman truly looked into the eyes of the young man standing in front of him. Ocean blue eyes that shined with cheekiness. He let out a breathless gasp finally realising who stood in front of him.

One by one, so did the others. He grew, by god did he grow from the small street kid into the titan of the man he was today. No baby fat hung on his cheeks, his dimples had lessened out throughout the years and his hair had been trimmed to military standards but they couldn’t deny what they saw.

Jason Todd, the boy that disappeared, the boy that ran was standing in front of them.

If one didn’t know about the personal history between the two, they would immediately assume Jason was Bruce’s blood son, not Damian. He was the closest in terms of build, height and complexion, with raven black hair and blue eyes.

An almost spitting image of his father.

The wonder and awe they held was squashed when they realised what him being here meant.

Jason was a soldier. A soldier that carried guns and killed.

It was the biggest _fuck you_ Jason could ever think of.

They knew that Bruce, with his stubborn ass, would never accept it. Despite to talks about patriotism and pride for the countrymen that sacrificed their lives to serve their country, Bruce would never accept Jason.

This wasn’t the same as Kate. Kate chose to become Batwoman, meaning she now follows the code.

Jason wasn’t a Bat, not anymore. So it didn’t matter how much Bruce would lecture him, it meant jack shit.

Jason’s 23 and he had become a hero that even Bruce couldn’t.

One that doesn’t hide his face behind a mask or run back to a fancy mansion when people disagree with him. One that follows the law and is respected for it. One that takes responsibility for his actions.

He became a hero that _he_ wanted to be. People look up to him for what _he_ is and not some projection of a boy he’ll never be.

His name is Jason Todd. Not Dick Grayson, not Bruce Wayne, not Robin.

Jason.

He needed a hero to save him. So he became one.


	2. The truth sets you free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title pretty much gives it away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you for everyone that enjoyed reading this. I did not think it would gain so much attention so quickly, which was why I originally planned it to be a oneshot.
> 
> Second, about halfway through you'll probably see a change in writing style. I wanted to put more in depth thoughts, and some backstory so I eased back to the original style that I normally use. If I could write this chapter just like Chapter 1, I would but I can't, sorry.

Surprisingly, not much happens after that debacle of an introduction.

The League and the Titans leave with a heavily bandaged Nightwing, throwing back glances of anger and hints of regret.

He ignores it, just as well as he ignores Bruce’s pained look or Tim’s confused admiration. The only one he cares about stares at him with pride in her eyes, at the little brother that grew into the man he was always supposed to be.

They linger, standing still, unsure whether to run up to each other arms and hug those missing years away, or keep the illusion that Jason doesn’t know their identities.

It aches, with a deep clawing feeling in his chest that they chose the latter, but she doesn’t leave without a gentle nod and a small smile that conveys a thousand words of _I’m proud of you and I missed you._

He doesn’t cry, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t feel his eyes sting.

His commanding officers send him home on an early vacation, long enough that this whole clusterfuck will hopefully die down with the explicit order that Jason will tell them _everything_ when the time comes.

He won’t, but he nods his head anyway.

A mindless commercial flight later lands him back in Heathrow Airport with a bag of essentials slung over his shoulder and the dull pain of a man that misses his sister.

Silent as ever, he slides into the back of the nearest cab and waits in desolate silence until he comes home. Back to the same two-bedroom apartment in the middle of London, with views of the River Thames and London Eye.

Its home or rather the closest thing he has to a home.

One where he can go back to and rest. One that greets him with warmth and familiarity. One that holds his secrets and pain, so he doesn’t have to.

But with secrets comes Bats.

“You know, next time you sneak into someone’s home, it’s probably best that you don’t bring two of your brightly coloured friends to the party. Ruins the surprise in my opinion.” He states, switching to his old Narrows accent.

Jason fails to contain a huff of laughter watching the Trinity walk out of their various hiding places with different degrees of apologetic glances, anger and stoic professionalism.

“Jason.” Wow, did that gargle sound familiar.

With an audible sigh, he drops his backpack and makes way to the kitchen, pulling the cabinets open. “Is Earl Grey okay for you lot?”

Silence follows and Jason merely rolls his eyes at the blatantly obvious anger. Looks like they still weren’t over how badly he beat up Dick. In their line of work, it wasn’t even _that_ bad.

They were willing to humiliate him but once the tables are turned, they come at him with thinly veiled threats.

Fucking typical.

Setting three cups down, Jason relished the way Diana and Clark bristled as there were _clearly_ four people present.

It was a statement. A certain someone was obviously not welcomed here.

Jason knows it’s petty, but if they’re going to break into his apartment and rant about some spiel that he honestly doesn’t care about, then at least he’ll get some entertainment out of it.

“So…” Snapping their attention back to him. “Whilst we wait for the tea to brew, let’s talk about why you’re here.” He stated, leaning against the counter with his hand propping his head up.

Watching them squirm under uncertainty almost had Jason displaying a devilish grin. In this line of work, body language is everything.

His relaxed demeanour showed that he was comfortable and at ease. He was fully prepared for what they had in store for him, and it unnerved them greatly.

“You’re behaviour at the training grounds today was unacceptable.” Batman growled out, which had Jason rolling his eyes in annoyed amusement.

_Oh, this is going to be fun._

“There was no need to hurt Dick to such an extent, Jason.”

“You know, for a moment there you almost sounded like a father.” He snidely remarked, watching in rapt awe at the way Bruce flinched.

Turning around, he rummaged through his kitchen cabinet, wondering where the hell are all the cookies?

“You went too far.” Bruce continued on with his lecture. “Diana had clearly stated at the beginning of the spar that this was _only_ a friendly match and there would be no use of excessive force.”

Hypocritical since she was mostly stating it to Dick, but Jason kept quiet because there were more pressing issues to attend to. Namely, his magically disappearing cookies.

_Did Rose break in again?_

“Got it.” He replied, without turning back around to them.

“I trained you better than that.”

_Damn, I’m sleepy._

“You are to effectively resign from the armed forces.”

_She better not have messed up my bed again._

“No problemo.” He absently replied, digging his hand far into the shelf.

_Why the fuck are the jars all the way over here? Dammit Rosie._

“Are you even listening?” Diana fumed, her voice raised.

“Hmm?” Jason whipped his head around, a cookie lodged deep in his mouth.

It was a thing of beautiful silence, as the three heroes watched in annoyance at Jason purposely eating slowly. His cheeks were puffed full with confectionary but it didn’t stop him sending a smug smile their way.

He could hear all three of the intruders grating their teeth but merely shrugged, before swallowing and taking a big glug of tea to wash away the mushy crumbs.

“Sorry.” He flashed a boyish grin. “I’m a little rusty. It’s been a while since I had to pretend to care about bullshit.”

“You think this is a joke to you?” Clark almost yelled, hovering in the air with his eyes shining a blood red.

Jason stifled a laugh because that was, by far, the poorest excuse of intimidation he has ever seen which infuriated the alien even harder.

“Actually. Yeah! This is a joke.” He raised a hand up, stopping their motions to continue yelling. His neighbours would be pissed at him if they got too loud.

“ _This..._ ” He frivolously pointed at the group. “Is all just a pretence for something else, so let’s skip Dick’s physical health, because quite frankly, he’s been through worse with a smile on his face whilst singing Hips Don’t lie by Shakira. So let's talk about the _real_ reason why you’re here.”

Taking a quick sip of his tea before speaking again. “You can’t stand the fact that someone you have trained to follow _your_ morals and _your_ code, has become a soldier and used those skills to kill people with.”

Bruce growled, but Jason merely shrugged and carried on, leaning back against the kitchen wall, mockingly. “Let me guess. _We must be better than them, Jason. All lives are important, Jason. You’re a murderer, Jason._ I’m pretty sure 27 confirmed kills for Her Majesty’s armed forces doesn’t make me a sociopath like those you put in the slammer every other day, but sure, to each their own.”

“28.” Bru-Batman snapped.

Jason’s brain short-circuited, staring dumbly at Bruce, wondering what the hell he’s saying.

He’s sure the number was 27 last time he checked the official manuscripts, and he hadn’t done any missions from that point on, so what the hell was he talking about –

_Oh_ …

A light chuckle escaped his lips without his consent, and the Trinity watched as it grew in strength as Jason whipped his head back laughing manically.

With the biggest shit eating grin he could possibly muster, he placed the hot cup of tea down and walked around the kitchen island, tensing the trio in anticipation.

As quick as a whip, he snatched the Lasso that hung on Diana’s waist and wrapped it firmly around his arm. A bright golden glow encompassed the dark apartment, with the hum of magic filing the air.

Dread filled Bruce’s bowels, finally realising what was happening. Jason had never been one to half-ass shenanigans, especially if it meant giving him the chance to show the world that he is right.

“I, Jason Peter Todd, did not kill Felipe Gargonaz.”

Drip.

Drop.

He could hear the tiny droplets of water from the kitchen sink fall down and hit the stainless steel basin. The honks of London cabs was deafening within the now silent home.

The horror in Bruce’s eyes were palpable.

Truth be told, Jason was enjoying this far more than he should.

Jason watched the façade of lies and untruths crumble from the three heroes. He watched the image Bruce had created about him to appease his own guilt wash away with regret and anger.

Diana and Clark, slowly and torturously, turned their heads to Bruce, eyes screaming at him, practically begging him to plead his case. To give him a chance to explain himself on why, the world’s greatest detective, in his own special way, practically destroyed Jason’s reputation as a hero.

Anger and disgust, not at Bruce but at themselves, seeped into their bones because they had believed it. Bruce had practically hammered into them, that nothing is conclusive without evidence.

_Innocent until proven guilty._

But they all hopped on board the moment Jason ran away because Bruce said so.

They thought Jason had run in fear of retribution. In fear that Batman would ship him off to Arkham the first chance he had.

Their stomachs did somersaults, remembering how they judged him the moment they realised he was a soldier, as if he used it as a means to kill, not because he wanted to help people.

Each Robin, in their own special way, was praised and celebrated as heroes. As beacons of hope for the hopeless.

You could hear it in people’s voices, the awe and wonder that they inspired. The way light somehow appeared in the darkest of places that even Superman could not reach.

But not Jason.

He was whispered with smug disgust, as those that had shunned him claimed that Gargonaz’s death was inevitable. That Jason couldn’t be saved and he would just become another criminal, just like his birth father.

Diana and Clark stood here feeling sick and disgusted in themselves for standing to the side and doing absolutely nothing.

Jason had always been the most passionate about crime fighting. Born in the blood and dirt of Crime Alley, he did everything he could to help those that were just like him.

Bruce had even confided with them his wish to eventually have Jason run the Martha Wayne Foundation when he was older. A big brother program of sorts.

But here he was, forced to grow up alone… _again_ on the other side of the world, because _another_ father didn’t believe in him. It felt like a punch in the gut to admit that he had every right to do so.

His involvement with Gargonaz wasn’t even questioned.

Why?

Because he wasn’t Dick Grayson.

_What have they done? What the_ hell _have they done?_

They weren’t heroes. Not to Jason.

“Now that this whole debacle has been cleared.” Jason’s crisp voice carried over to them, ripping them out of their internal turmoil. “I have a book to read.” He smiled casually at them, chucking the Lasso back to a fumbling Diana.

His expression was so casual and so sincere that left them with their guts clenching.

Bruce wanted Jason to yell at him, to scream at the top of his lungs for ruining his life, for disregarding everything he had ever done…for never trusting him.

He wanted at least some resemblance of the boy he once called son.

But the way Jason moved, how Jason expressed himself, filled with emotional openings and a calmness well above his years, ripped Bruce’s heart to bits.

Jason wasn’t acting.

Jason wasn’t mad.

He had moved on. Grown up without a family, without a home…without him.

Bruce didn’t know what was worse, that his son had grown up so much he didn’t recognise him or that Jason had stopped believing in magic.

“Jason.” Clark spoke up, gaining the steely gaze of the young man. “You could have done this years ago.” Pointing at Diana’s Lasso. “Why didn’t you come home?”

Deep, blue eyes stared at him for an uncomfortable amount of time. With a dismissive ease, Jason shrugged. “Because it still wouldn’t change a thing.”

“What?” Diana exclaimed. “This changes everything.”

A dark chuckle was her response, sending them to the edge. “Because this idiot you call a friend…” He lazily pointed at Batman. “Is too proud and too much of a coward to ever admit he’s wrong.” He commented, eyeing his tea.

No words have ever hit closer to home than this. They wanted to object, to change the young man’s mind, but lumps blocked their throats because the sad fact was….

Jason was right.

Because once this was done, when they were back in the safety of their own homes, when their friends and allies come and ask about Jason…Bruce wouldn’t say a fucking thing.

Batman was _the world’s greatest detective_ and he couldn’t even prove the innocents of his own son.

He _failed._

Batman needed to be the perfect detective. His reputation must be solid, unquestionable.

If this got out, that he failed a young boy, his _own_ son? Everything he had worked on, every case he completed, every order he gives will be questioned.

All because Bruce made up facts.

Jason had come for Gargonaz, that was a fact.

Gargonaz had died, also fact.

But there were no cameras, no eye-witness reports, no fingerprints, nothing to indicate Jason had pushed Gargonaz off the edge.

But Jason had ran.

Jason had hidden himself for years, only popping up on the radar on different continents, only to be found, now, in England.

It was clear Jason was done hiding but had grown to the point that facial recognition couldn’t match him any longer.

So for 8 years, Bruce made _assumptions_ , trashed Jason’s image, just so it would fit this picture that Batman was right and Jason had killed a man in cold blood.

At every turn, every decision, every action Bruce had made about Jason was completely and wholly biased. Built on a foundation of mistrust.

“And besides.” Jason continued. “Even if you two try to plead my case, everyone wouldn’t listen to you, no matter how much pull you have. The Gargonaz case was just the fuel to the fire everyone needed to shit on my existence. It set in stone an idea of who I am, and now, absolutely no-one can change their mind.”

Their stomachs churned in disgust, realising how badly they had failed him.

Dick had always been the prime example, the golden image of what Robin was supposed to be. He was kind, outgoing, friendly and everyone loved him for it.

But Jason wasn’t Dick. He was angry, crude, rough around the edges and didn’t trust anyone easily. There was no doubt that Jason wanted to belong, to feel needed and accepted, but they, in their narrow minded way, treated him like Dick.

And the moment he didn’t respond the way they expected him to, they casted him aside and sided with Dick between him and Bruce’s arguments. Calling it unfair and disrespectful a street rat was allowed to take up the Robin colours.

He was pushed aside, belittled and disrespected because of how his upbringing and heritage shaped him.

And now, he was paying the price for something he didn’t do.

The Gargonaz case was merely the tipping point. _This_ …all of this, the heartbreak, the anger, the betrayal, was because they all casted their eyes away when Jason needed them.

_They fucked up. They fucked up bad._

They all wanted to say they were sorry. Sorry for ever doubting him, sorry for smearing his image in the dirt, sorry for everything he had to endure because they couldn’t step up and be the heroes they claimed to be.

But their words clung to their throats, where only mere gasps of air escaped at each try.

Because quite frankly, _sorry_ wasn’t enough.

_Sorry_ doesn’t fix eight years of neglect.

_Sorry_ doesn’t bring a lost son home.

_Sorry_ doesn’t fill the once small cracks that had now grown into chasm of heartbreak and betrayal.

In their own unique way, each hero slowly made their way out, understanding that this conversation was over and they were no longer welcome anymore, not that they were in the first place.

Clark dipped his head apologetically but held his mouth shut. He hated to admit it, but he hadn’t been the uncle Jason had no doubt needed. All the other boys could and _have_ come to him to bond or ask for advice, seeking comfort when they needed it and Clark had provided without question.

But Jason? He felt a bubble of anger hit his very core, because he couldn’t even remember if he had ever done the same to Jason. At the time it had been Dick, always Dick.

_What about Jason?_

Diana tried to keep her head up, she tried to stare into those blue eyes that once looked up at her as if she was the world. He basically worshipped the ground she walked on. She was his hero and she couldn’t save him…she didn’t even try.

She stared and stared and stared hoping, practically praying to find hesitation, hurt, anger, sadness, literally _anything_ that could say she had a chance. A sign that he was clinging on the barest hint of hope. A way to right her wrongs.

Maturity and conviction stared right back. Those ocean blue eyes that once thought of her as a gift to mankind, now held a dullness that sent daggers to her heart.

Filled with shame, she slowly averted her eyes, the memory of the bright-eyed Robin tainted once again, this time by her.

And then there was one.

Bruce remained stoic, trying to keep the composure of a man that failed as a father. A father that didn’t trust his son and paid the price for it.

He took a step closer, trying to close the physical and metaphorical distance between him and the stranger he once thought he knew, but halted at the unimpressed raised eyebrow the young man sent his way.

It was a silent question of why.

_Why are you even trying?_

_Why bother now?_

And it broke his heart that he didn’t have an answer.

Maybe it was guilt? Shame? A lingering memory of good times? An urge to be a father again?

Jason didn’t want him, or need him, but he had to try. He knew he fell short as a father. That he wasn’t the most open with his emotions as his sons and daughter might need him to be.

But god did he want to try and be the man his parents would undoubtedly want him to be.

“I missed you.” He whispered, voice cracked and wobbly, filled with sadness and regret.

“Cool.” Jason dismissed. “The window’s that way.”

Diana and Clark winced at the sheer casualness he invoked, watching as the words flew out with ease, but hit Bruce with the force of a tidal wave.

The feeling of dread and hopelessness engulfed Bruce just as heavily as the day he found out Jason had ran away.

To Jason, Bruce’s attempt were empty words from an empty man.

And so they left, leaving behind a grown stranger and two cups of cold tea.


	3. Gone, but never forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth is painful and it comes with a price. The Waynes learn what that price is.

The three heroes stayed in deadly silence, watching as the land, sea and sky blurred past them.

They felt…‘numb’ couldn’t even describe it. Everything around them seemed wrong, feeling their chest constrict against them as the air within the cabin became palpable.

None of them dared to move or speak, as if any act was further betraying Jason. They sat still, too afraid to ask themselves if they even knew what it truly meant to be a hero, understanding that they were too shallow and narrow minded to look after one of their own.

Memories, flashbacks, images of good times flashed before their eyes of the little boy that stood up to the world and shouted with all his heart what he was capable of. They remember his cheery grin, his brash jokes, his do or die attitude that shocked even the most hardened criminals.

God, they felt horrible that it took 8 years to remember those times.

Now…now all they see is the eyes of a man that had accepted his pain, who grew up believing they hated him, and for a sick second, they did.

It had taken Bruce years to show Jason that he was wanted, that he was loved, that he should trust them. Years of work to have that small, innocent, broken child accept them and they had flushed it down the drain because they didn’t believe in him.

He placed his trust in them, but they didn’t do the same.

A flicker of pride burst through them because he had grown into a fine young man. Clearly loved by his peers, they could see that people looked up to him. He was a safe haven in a world of bullets and death with the proud confidence to match.

He had friends, a purpose and a home.

But this brief warmth was quenched, knowing that he had to raise himself in fear and in heartbreak whilst they lived their lives judging him.

And now, it was hard to deny. They had failed a child.

The plane slowed down as it approached the cave and even before getting out they could feel the uneasy tension brewing around them.

Jason Peter Todd was at the forefront of everyone’s mind.

The guilt the three heroes tried to keep at bay came rushing back, replaying Jason’s words over and over again. In that moment, they hated themselves, because Jason was right, they were too scared to do anything, too weak to tell the truth, too fragile to bear the shame of revealing the truth.

“What did you find out?”

Dick’s voice was nasally, his bloodied nose filled with tissue paper blocks but still couldn’t stop the hint of anger he displayed. Whatever guilt he had with Jason was washed away from this exchange.

Clark and Diana couldn’t look at him in the eye. They had done nothing for too long, but were too ashamed to do anything about it.

Bruce kept his head level, but merely changed the topic and sat down at the computer. “What did _you_ find out?”

Anger flashed through Dick’s eyes and despite his broken state was ready to pounce, but thankfully Tim stepped forward, bewildered at the developments.

“Jason Peter Todd, currently known as Jason Peters.” He began, flicking through the files, switching to his detective persona. Whatever was happening, he could deal with that later. Everyone made their way around, equally apprehensive about the situation but still kept silent.

Nobody noticed a misty-eyed Alfred in the background.

“Currently, 23 years old. He was recruited in the British Armed Forces at 18 and quickly climbed through military ranks before he was initiated into the Special Air Forces, completing over 30 successful missions and earning himself a Victoria Cross for carrying a wounded comrade through enemy territory.” He stopped briefly, looking at the expressions of those around him.

Everyone had their own expressions, some were confused, and some calm but he stopped on Alfred, whose eyes were bright and watery with pride.

Earning a Victoria Cross was no easy feat, as it was the most prestigious medal a soldier could attain. It was for those who served gallantly in the presence of the enemy. Those who earned such a medal were held with the highest regard.

Swallowing his tension away, Tim continued. “At age 22, he completed a dual degree in Politics and Economics. Straight A’s, summa cum laude at Cambridge University.”

Out of everyone, only Clark noticed how Bruce’s heart skipped a beat upon hearing Jason’s academic achievements. Another thing he had missed out on.

“From then on, he used his skills and knowledge with other British intelligence agencies. He’s in high demand as both an Analyst and ground operative and has found recognition with other agencies across the globe, including CIA, Australian SAS, Interpol and Mossad.”

Everyone audibly swallowed, only now realising how grossly they had underestimated him. Jason Peter Todd had the backing of nations. How the hell did they miss this?

The silence was snapped when they heard the roar of an engine approach them. Kate jumped out of her vehicle and made quick headway towards the group. “Mind explaining to me what was so important I had to abort a mission I had just spent the last 6 weeks working on?”

Nobody answered in time before Kate flicked her eyes at the screen before exclaiming in confusion. “Jason? Why are we looking up him? Are we going after him?”

Bruce jumped to his feet, anger practically spewing out of him. “You knew? You knew Jason was in the military?” His voice rocked the dark cave.

Her eyebrows crossed together wondering what went up Bruce’s ass today. You could see the dots slowly connect in her head, noting Bruce’s reaction with the name Jason. “Wait, _Jason?_ As in the kid that ran away?”

“Who else would it be?” Bruce growled out.

“How the hell would I know?!” She exclaimed in retaliation. “I never met the kid before he left and when I first met him a couple of years back, he looked nothing like the photos you should me.”

Calming himself down, he understood that he jumped to conclusions once again. 8 years and he still hasn’t learnt a thing. “What do you know about him?”

Kate huffed in annoyance but made her way up to the keyboard. “I met him back when I was still a soldier. America held war games with its allies and Britain sent along their SAS boys to show off their skills.” She answered, bringing up and old training video.

“Jason had only just joined the SAS a couple months prior, so no-one had much hopes for him but…damn Bruce, the kid’s a natural.” He flinched, because he knew it as well, but it hurt to hear it from someone else.

So they watched. In fear, in awe, in rapt attention because there was no denying it. Jason was incredible.

Terrain recon, war room tactics, gun handling and vehicle competency. You name it, he did it. And he did it _well_.

There were still hints of his Robin training, but it was completely overshadowed by the brutality he enforced. He was a powerhouse of muscle, with the willingness to perform dirty tricks to achieve his mission.

It was blatantly clear what he was displaying.

Bruce had tried to refine his abilities, to copy and become an acrobat just like Dick, but it wasn’t _him_. Watching the videos now, away from Bruce and his teachings, Jason flourished.

He didn’t try to be someone else, he nurtured his own abilities and that was what made the difference.

No longer did he have to be someone else to make someone proud, no longer was he forced to confide to rules that went against his beliefs. With every objective, he went from point A to point B as efficiently as possible. There was no dramatic flair, no unnecessary backflips, no mercy.

Just a Gotham born son doing what he knew best.

“Oh my.” Alfred finally spoke, pride embedded into his words as the rest of them stood stunned.

Kate smirked at Alfred and brought up a series of images. “Miss Kane?” Alfred said, perplexed. “Why did you bring up my old long range marksmanship records?”

“Because these aren’t your records…Their Jason’s.” The butler’s eyebrows practically shot up into his hairline.

She chucked at the thought. “I never understood his intentions that day…but I do now. You still have some of the greatest records set in British military only because Jason chose not to beat it. So in order to pay respects to you, whilst still showing his abilities, he copied your shots. To. The. Millimetre.” She emphasised each word, watching at the way the butler’s eyes flickered between her and the screen, tears dancing on the edge.

A smile graced her face, because she had heard the stories about Jason and Alfred. Grandfather and grandson.

How the little boy practically shadowed the old gentleman throughout the Manor, helping with chores and learning the best ways to bend Bruce to his will.

Once again, her eyebrows burrowed, because unlike the others, she was no stranger to killing. Felipe Gargonaz’s death was of no matter to her, and if she had ever truly met Jason Todd, she wouldn’t have judged him for it, unlike her cousin.

“So, tell me Bruce…why are you looking up Jason?”

“Because he’s a murderer.” It wasn’t Bruce that spoke but Dick. However, that didn’t conceal the way the Trinity tensed up at the declaration.

And the worst part was, _everyone_ noticed it.

“Master Bruce?”

Clark and Diana looked between each other, their guilt was eating them away, because Jason didn’t deserve this, especially not from Alfred.

“Bruce.” Diana spoke slowly. “You have to tell them. Once upon a time, they were Jason’s family. They deserve to know.”

“Deserve to know what?” Tim’s detective mind was going into overdrive. What could possibly have the Trinity fidgeting so much, just by merely mentioning Jason’s name?

But Bruce remained silent, hating himself so, _so_ much because Jason was right. He was too proud and too much of a coward to ever admit he’s wrong.

“Bruce.” Diana repeated again, but this time with a sterner voice. “You tell them or I will.”

Anger boiled through her as he stayed quiet, whilst his family stared at him with inquisitive eyes. Taking a deep breath, she spoke quickly and efficiently, wanting to get this over as soon as possible.

“Jason never killed Gargonaz.”

If the cave had crickets, they would all hear it. It was as if a pin dropped and a series of _Whats_ and _The Fuck Does That Mean_ and _Language Master Dick_ carried out.

Taking another breath to settle herself, she explained slowly. “We broke into his apartment, waiting to interrogate him. He completely blindsided us and used the Lasso on himself.” She spoke quietly, eyes gazing across the room. “He’s innocent. After all this time, he’s innocent.”

“What?” Dick asked, meekly. _That can’t be right. Jason’s a murderer. A thug. A criminal. A…a…_

He was having a meltdown, trying to reason himself, trying to hold himself together, trying to keep his guilt away for the brother he never tried to know.

For years, he had believed it was too late to ever save Jason, and Gargonaz’s death confirmed it. Now…now everything was breaking and he didn’t know what to do.

“It’s true, Dick.” Clark spoke up, sorrow and regret etched into his very being. “Jason Peter Todd is innocent and for eight years he has been running away for a crime he never committed.”

_That_ felt like a sledgehammer to the chest.

Quietly in the corner, Barbara held her mouth in shock, happiness exuding out of her in waves, because she was right. She knew Jason was…unorthodox but he wouldn’t commit murder. He loved Bruce too much to ever break his one rule and she held onto that belief for eight years.

He was innocent.

“Master Bruce? Would you like to repeat that, sir?” A voice called out tensely that had everyone bristling. They all watched as the usual calm and professional butler slowly crack and splinter, unleashing the pent up anger eight years in the making for the young boy that he loved.

Unable to meet his father figure’s eyes, he looked away in shame. “I was wrong.” Bruce almost whispered out, feeling the guilt and shame crush him. Jason was right, he was a coward.

Alfred stared at him, almost shaking in fury, watching Bruce ball into himself to appear small. “I have stood by your side since the very day you’ve been born, Master Bruce.” He said, slowly making his way towards his charge, as the others moved back carefully, not wanting to bear the disapproval of their grandfather either.

“You have made decisions within your life that I have never fully agreed with, and yet, I have stood by and looked after you and raised you the best I could because I love you, just like I love your children. _My_ grandchildren.” He told, with a dangerously low tone. “Not once, since I have met Master Jason have I ever stopped believing in him nor have I ever stopped loving him. Even with the death of Felipe Gargonaz, I did not care one bit if he did kill, because he _was_ my grandson.”

Everyone’s heart ached at how Alfred’s voice broke, ever so slightly. This was wrong. So, so wrong.

“But he ran. A 15 year old boy, _my_ 15 year old boy ran away, because you didn’t trust him.” Bruce flinched at his words, but stayed quiet, enduring the brimming fire in Alfred’s eyes. “Yet, I still performed my duties as this family’s butler and watched as you dragged his name through the mud for _eight years…_ ” His voice rising ever so slightly. “Just so you could validate yourself.”

“And now…” His eyes flicking to the screen above. “And now, you tell me that he was innocent. That he left his home because he couldn’t trust you anymore and that you couldn’t be the father he needed? That I missed out on eight years of his life and you barely even have to gall to tell me why?” He leaned forward, towering over the seated Bat.

“Alfred…I – ”

A sharp crack filled the cool air. Many of the cave’s occupants gasped in shock, watching Bruce hold his left cheek as if he had been burned. Briskly lowering his right hand, Alfred made sure that Bruce was looking deep into his eyes, before tensely whispering.

“I thought I raised you better than this.”

And _that_ felt like a death sentence.

Straightening his posture, looking deeply disappointed in the most Alfred of ways possible, and demanded. “You _will_ call Master Jason. You _will_ invite him to the manor. And I _will_ see my grandson. Do I make myself clear, Master Wayne?”

Master _Wayne?_ Fuck, they were so screwed.

Cheek blaring red, Bruce looked up for a tense second before slowly lowering his head and nodded.

Without a word, Alfred abruptly turned around and briskly walked towards the stairway, possibly to his room for the foreseeable future, leaving behind a stunned family and a broken father.

~

_“Yello!”_ was the greeting Bruce received. Bright, cheery and felt like a fucking nail to the heart.

It must have been painfully obvious how long he stayed silent. He had practiced over and over again, wanting to not overstep his bounds, wanting Jason to not slam the phone down on him, gathering up the courage to pick up the damn phone and he still couldn’t do what was needed.

_“I’m guessing this is Bruce?”_ Jason asked rhetorically, chuckling on the other end.

Bruce hated himself that all he could do was grunt in confirmation.

A huff of air was heard, and an uncomfortable silence followed, demanding Bruce to speak up. He hated himself even more, because once again, it fell on Jason to act.

_“I’m assuming the others found out?”_

A grunt was all he could muster again.

_“And you’re calling because….”_

His voice wobbled as he opened his mouth to speak. “I’m calling to invite you over for dinner at the Manor.”

Jason stayed silent for a bit, no doubt contemplating whether or not to go. For a horrible and shameful moment, Bruce almost wished Jason would decline so he wouldn’t have to bear the awkward silences and guilt. Bruce cursed himself silently for wishing so, it was a coward’s way out.

_“Al put you up to this, didn’t he?”_

He was eternally grateful that this conversation was over the phone, so Jason couldn’t see how badly he flinched at that remark. Even if it was some deluded wish, he wanted Jason to believe that he cared and that he came up with the idea. For the young man to quickly deduce that it was Alfred’s doing crushed him.

“Yes.” He gritted out.

Silence followed and Bruce’s heart constricted thinking Jason was going to put the phone down. He could hear the ticks of the clock pass by and each second felt like another ton of shame that he couldn’t bear.

“Ja – ”

_“I just booked a flight in a weeks time. See you then.”_ Jason promptly explained before shutting off.

Everything happened so fast that Bruce barely had any time of register what the hell just happened.

Jason was coming back?

In a week?

Another wave of fear and apprehension hit him. He didn’t actually expect Jason to say ‘yes’.

Was he hurt that Jason would readily come back only because of Alfred and not him? Yes.

Was he afraid that he didn’t know how to connect with Jason? He barely connected with the Jason back then, but now? When he’s all grown up? Absolutely.

But a fresh surge of adrenaline coursed through him, because at the very least, it was a chance.

He must have sat there for ages, before sprinting up the stairs to deliver the news.

~

The sound of gravel beneath his feet was scarily familiar. They shift, grate and clink together with each step and for some reason it calms his nerves down.

He’s afraid, shy, nervous, but who wouldn’t be? These feelings weren’t for Bruce or any of the other so called ‘brothers’ but for his grandpa and big sis.

He’s seen pictures. Tabloids. News reels. But Alfred and Barbara didn’t have the same coverage as the Waynes but he scoured whatever he could find throughout the years.

It was no secret that he was terrified. He feels shitty, useless and selfish for not being with Barbara during _that_ time in her life.

He cried the day she was shot and he cried the day she got her legs back.

He did send a postcard that time. No name or address. Just a message that only Barbara could understand and he hopes till this day that it was enough.

As he reached those gigantic oak wood doors, he can see the silhouettes blitz away from the window and with perfect timing as always Alfred opens the doors and greets him.

Jason stops dead in his tracks, and a burn scores through his heart. Standing proud, practically radiating happiness is the old man he considered his grandfather.

In many ways, Alfred hasn’t changed at all, but in many other ways, he has. Jason spots a few grey hairs flitting across the top of Alfred’s head and the amount of wrinkles on the man’s face is far too many for his liking.

“Heya, Alfie.” Jason greets fondly. He doesn’t say anything further, or rather he couldn’t as he was pulled into a firm hug. Far stronger than he thought those old arms could muster and he feels himself melting into it.

After a long moment, Alfred pulls away, tears dancing across his eyes but smiling as bright as the day Jason called him grandpa. “My word, Master Jason. It’s good to have you home.”

Jason’s heart stutters a bit, because he didn’t like what he was about to do to Alfred. “Sorry, Al. It’s not my home.”

It breaks his heart watching the flicker of pain cross Alfred’s face, but he had to endure it. This wasn’t his home. Bruce wasn’t his dad. His life didn’t belong in Gotham anymore.

They had to understand and he’ll remind them every time if he has to, even if it hurts Alfred.

“My apologies, Master Jason.” The younger man nods his acceptance with a shy smile. “I must say, it seems at least my teachings hasn’t completely been lost on all of my boys.” Alfred comments, eyeing Jason’s attire for the night.

Jason peered down onto his two piece suit. It was a simple arrangement of slim fit black trousers, with a matching suit with a grey undershirt. His tailor had suggested that jackets without padding would be much more suitable. His shoulders were far too big as it was.

Having pads would be a ridiculous statement.

Jason chuckled shyly at the attire. “Well I had to look presentable. I am a guest.”

There was that flicker again. “Right…of course, Master Jason. I have taught you well.”

Jason was pained that he had to keep reminding Alfred. It felt like he was digging a knife further into Alfred’s heart but he wasn’t backing out now. He couldn’t. “I also brought some wine.” He held up a flask to show. “I know it’s not as great as the wines in the cellar, but it is one of my favourites.” He explained, nervously.

“An excellent idea, sir. It should go well with this evening’s meal.” Alfred takes the bottle gently, as if the wine is some family heirloom. “Please, come inside. The others are waiting for you.”

He walks in and his sight is immediately pummelled with pearly whites and cheers of his name.

Jason doesn’t like it. Their smiles are welcoming, warm and forced.

Tim greets him first, shaking his hand with the casualness of a seasoned veteran but hides the enthusiasm of child.

Dick _bleeding heart_ Grayson, fully healed from his injuries, greets him like a long-time friend and Jason resists the urge to break his nose.

Where were all these niceties the day he became alone again? Where were all these cheery voices and bright smiles when he lived with him?

This was all a pretence. A nice ‘family’ dinner. A big, ‘welcoming’ group. Smiles that looked worse than the Joker’s.

It’s sickening really. That they think he’ll just drop everything in his life and come rushing back into their arms. Crying over spilled milk. That’s not going to happen. He’s not going to let it happen.

He greets them back as the guest he is, but makes no attempt to fake a smile. Dick falters a bit, guilt clearly written on his face…good. Tim seems unbothered by it, showing his understanding that things won’t be fixed with smiles and handshakes.

And already the kid was better than Dick in his book.

Stephanie…at least he thinks her name is Stephanie (there are too many Bats) sticks to Tim’s side greeting him like a fellow Gothamite. A true Gothamite.

He takes to her instantly. She was different from the others. No judgement. No expectations. No bad blood. Maybe he could get more out of this visit than he initially intended.

Cassandra kind of stayed to the side and sent a small smile out of courtesy.

He’s heard the stories. Slade has plenty of scars to prove it, so Jason knew exactly why she was wary of him and he was fine with it. At least she didn’t fake it like Dick.

The only ones that do show sincerity are the ones he knows, the ones who don’t blindly follow Bruce’s law.

And by god does Jason’s heart skyrocket looking at Barbara. Perfect just like the first day he met her.

Bright, fiery locks wearing a loose fitting blue dress with a blinding smile that leaves him speechless. She rushes him and crushes him in a hug. She practically melted in his arms, not letting go anytime soon.

“I missed you.” They said in unison and chuckled at the jinx they made. 8 years and everything still clicked into place.

He takes a quick whiff of her hair, and the lemon and lavender scent brings him back to late nights where he would braid her hair and early morning milkshake runs at the diner on 5th.

A cough brings them out of their daze, and as he slowly lets go he instantly misses her warmth but reluctantly turns his head to the other red-head in the room.

She looked…different. Good, even.

He tensed when she wrapped his arms around him, unsure of what the fuck was happening, but slowly eased himself into her embrace. A silent message of confirmation. _I don’t care if you did kill Felipe._

Pulling back she smirks at the sight of the dumbass expression on his face, yet gives a gentle nod his way. Something bursts inside him and he can feel her presence earning a rightful place in his heart.

Kate was strong, snarky and dared anyone to talk shit about her sexuality to her face. But most of all, she was incredibly kind, remembering the times they interacted those years back.

He wasn’t too sure how he felt about her, but there was no doubt about it, she was his new Wonder Woman.

The best part was, she fucking knew it and now she wore that badge of honour with pride.

From that point on, she would never openly admit it, but he held a special place in her heart too. He had a special type of courage, one that only those who has been rejected for who they were would understand.

When the world shoved him down into the dirt, he came back punching.

He was hers now and dare say, with time, hopefully more.

She slapped him playfully on the shoulder, grinning widely at him. “You little shit. You hid from me in plain sight. I’m pissed I didn’t figure it out.”

“Oh, come on.” He whined playfully. “Not my fault your old eyes couldn’t see it.”

“Old?!” She exclaimed. “That’s it.” She charged at him with a firm playfulness, wrapping her arm around his head and proceeded to noogy him into submission.

“Hey, let go!” Jason exclaimed happily. Laughing loudly at her antics. “Shit, Kane. That hurts.”

“Not until you say who’s the most badass women on this planet.” She laughed along.

“Barbara Gordon! Barbara Gordon could kick my ass to Sunday!” The women in question blushed as bright as her amber hair.

“Wrong answer.”

“Fuck that hurts. Fine! Fine! Kate Kane is a badass queen, who won’t take shit from no-one. Now, let go.” Kate laughed maniacally but promptly let him go, as Alfred watched on with a fond smile.

“Damn right I am.” She stated, proudly.

Barbara laughed along, walking up to Jason and bending him forward, fixing his messy curls. “Ease it up there, Kate. I haven’t seen him in eight years. I would like him to be in one piece by the end of the night.”

Kate rolled his eyes, amused but before she could reiterate, someone else beat her to the punch.

“So this is the coward.” _Small? Whiny voice? This must be Damian_. Jason thought.

Jason hears Dick try to lecture the kid, he hears Tim groaning in annoyance, he even hears that audible click from Cass.

Before Alfred could lecture the brat, Jason smirks down at the runt and proudly states. “That’s me.”

That was clearly not the answer anyone expected him to have. Barbara shook for her amused because she should have expected it. If there was anything they had learnt about Jason, it was that he lived to defy expectations.

The look of surprise on the kid’s face was absolutely priceless and Jason resisted the urge to ruffle his hair. He could already spot five daggers peeking out of his clothes already. Getting stabbed was not one of his objectives tonight.

“Well…at least you know your place.” The kid huffed, clearly on the back foot that had Jason chuckling.

“Jason.”

The young man sighed, because he knew the owner of that voice had been standing by the stairway the entire time and quite frankly, he was trying to delay the greeting for as long as possible.

Whatever smile or expression he had wiped off his face as he turned to the owner of the Manor. “It’s good to see you, Jaylad.”

Jason’s brows crease at the nickname. A nickname his father gave him. A nickname he once cherished. A nickname he now despised.

Bruce notices the minute expression and something about him saddens, but Jason doesn’t care. He doesn’t have the fucking right to call him that after eight years. “Thanks for having me here.” He replies, rather monotonously.

Bruce flinches at the remark but remains silent opting for a nod of confirmation.

Alfred escorts them all to the dining room, doing his best to ease the tension in the room.

And so Jason follows, he chats, he laughs but he doesn’t forget his objectives. Bruce and company had their own and Jason was going to shut it down once and for all.

~

For a long time, Bruce had always been…lonely. Ever since his parents died that night, he never really tried to connect with people, preferring to shut them out in fear that event ever crossed his path ever again.

He never sought out to be a parent. It was unknown territory for him. No amount of books or advice could ever prepare for him the emotional struggle and daily grind it took to watch children grow.

But with time, he grew and so did his family, and for once in a long time he felt gifted. His children were a gift in his life that he never knew he wanted. Dick, Tim, Damian, Cassandra, Kate, Alfred, even Barbara and Stephanie were people he loved dearly, but he’ll always regret one.

Jason.

Jason was different from the others. He made him laugh on cold nights and skip patrol to just be a family.

Out of all his children, Jason was his first. Dick was his ward and for years Bruce was afraid of overstepping his bounds, not wanting to replace Dick’s parents, but Jason…Jason was the first child that he could call his.

His first son.

And every day for eight years, he lived with regret. He regretted every decision he made with Jason. What if he had been closer to Jason? What if he had actually talked to him? What if he never made him Robin?

If he did, would Jason have ran?

Bruce lived with these ‘What ifs’ every day but he had to push them to the side. His life rarely gave him any room to imagine what would happen if he was the father his children needed him to be. Too busy saving the world and running a company for such time.

And now Jason was innocent and that Jason hated him so much that he would rather raise himself than rely Bruce.

He hated him, he hated Dick, he hated Gotham so much that he ran.

And by god did he grow. Whatever swell of pride Bruce had in his boy was swamped by the regret he felt for not being able to witness him grow up. He didn’t even recognise him anymore. Those bright eyes that Bruce adored, was now duller, sharper…deadlier.

Eight years later, 2920 days of what ifs, Jason came home and Bruce was crushed.

The clothes.

The wine.

Those words.

_It’s not my home._

At every turn Jason was making sure to remind them that he was a guest. That they weren’t family. That the Manor wasn’t his home and Bruce had no idea how to change his mind.

A disgusting part of him, a dark and selfish monster inside of him hated it that Alfred, Barbara, even Kate for Christ’s sake had the privilege to hug and laugh with him.

He loved Kate, he really does, but she spent a week with him a couple of years ago and already Jason was looking up to her? Bruce spent three years with the boy and he was left to pick up crumbs, forced to stand by the side and watch as his cousin slowly began the fill the void he once filled.

Bruce knew Jason saw men and women different. He respected women fiercely and would fight anyone who degraded their existence. But strong women were a different breed. They were revered as goddesses and treated as such.

Diana was amused with such respect all those years back and treated him in kind. The boy practically followed her around like a baby duckling, awe and inspiration exuding off him in spades.

It wasn’t often, but there were moments when passer biers thought of the two as mother and son. Jason would always beam with pride for having such a ‘mother’ and Diana would blush immensely at the praise.

But if their ‘visit’ in London taught Bruce anything, it was that even goddesses could fall from grace.

It had been over a week but Bruce hadn’t heard from Diana. He would get the occasional call from Clark but Diana refused to speak to anyone. Bruce kept his distance, understanding she was heartbroken, shame and guilt eating her alive, day in, day out.

Swallowing his pride and fear, Bruce tried to welcome Jason, hoping to show the young man he was welcome anytime. Even calling him Jaylad for the first time in eight years.

He felt a tinge of hatred hit him, piercing his skin like knives, watching Jason’s expression morph into something akin to disgust. Even if he didn’t mean to, Bruce unconsciously stepped backwards, not wanting to spook Jason away.

Bruce was eternally grateful when Alfred stepped in, commenting about dinner and escorting them further into the Manor.

Alfred disappears into the kitchen, no doubt to bring out the dishes as the others sit down. Bruce at the head of the table, with Dick and Damian to either side. Tim sits next to Dick with Stephanie by his side, opposite of Cassandra and Barbara.

Kate’s eyes flicker between Jason and Bruce as the younger man chose to sit next to Barbara, not wanting to be placed at the end in direct view of Bruce. She sends the older man a comforting shrug and sits opposite Jason, leaving the remaining end seat for Alfred.

The first few moments are tense. No-one knows what to say and Bruce almost kissed Alfred then and there as his pseudo-father brought out that evening’s meals.

From there, conversation begins to flow. Not immediately, but carefully. Alfred asks the young man about his time in London, trying to hide the choke in his voice as Jason explains it reminded him of the old butler.

A few minutes into their course Jason brings out the bottle of wine he brought along and shares it accordingly.

Alfred, Kate and Barbara accept it with ease and compliments him immensely about his choice.

Dick however sat there dumbfounded when the younger man walked to his side and asked if he would like to have a drink. It was somewhat amusing watching his son mumble out a thank you as he accepted the drink, but all Bruce could think of was how mature Jason had become.

It was no secret Dick once despised Jason and Jason retaliated in kind. Oil and water, and Bruce was guilty to admit, that he didn’t do much to help the situation.

Yet, looking at Jason now made him feel worthless. Jason’s temper had always been something Bruce had tried to change and there had been many nights where he had to butt heads with his son about it.

For Jason to mature this much showed how lacking Bruce was. That Jason nurtured and developed himself all on his own, yet all Bruce ever amounted to was yelling and slamming doors.

The young man makes his way around the table, laughing as Cassandra wrinkles her nose at the smell and teasing Tim and Stephanie mercilessly as they made grabby motions at the bottle.

A pang of pain hit Bruce, because for a moment, they looked like a family.

Once seated again, Jason reengages with his surrounding table mates and proceeded to have a conversation of their own, leaving Bruce with his thoughts and doubts.

~

Barbara, Kate and Alfred brings up small topics. Nothing dramatic, just the normal “How are you?” and “What have you been up to?” coupled with the odd teasing.

It’s fun and reminiscent, but it has him stifling a giggle feeling the tension on the other side of the table. As clear as night and day, one side laughs while the other side stares at their food.

Everything seems manageable, until Damian decides to go straight for the fucking balls.

“So you kill people.” Damian stated, stabbing rather robotically into his salad.

Jason almost laughed at how cold the room became. The clinks of forks hitting plates were deafening within the now silent dining room, and if he strained his ears, he could hear Bruce grating his teeth in anger.

“An over-simplification.” He smirked at the kid. “But yes. I kill people.”

Instead of the arrogance he displayed before, a look of confusion flashed his face. “I came to believe that father doesn’t consider those who kill to be family.”

“Damian.” Bruce snapped.

Jason raised an eyebrow looking at the way the kid flinched in response. 8 years and nothing has changed, it seems. Chuckling a bit, he answered. “Ok, first off, short stuff. I kill under the orders of the law. Slightly different from vigilantes and assassins killing people.” The brat nodded thoughtfully at the point.

From what Slade has told him, the kid was raised to be some kind of an assassin prince and once he was introduced into this household, Bruce would most likely tried to keep a leash on him and killing.

To Damian, Jason was an anomaly. A rogue variable to everything he has been taught and he wanted to know why. He’s only known how to fight outside the legal barriers but never really looked in.

Jason was that window in.

_“Good”._ Jason thought. _“At least he can think on his own.”_

There was no doubt in Jason’s mind that Bruce was once again trying to validate himself on his pedestal of moral superiority. He won’t look into himself for answers, but blame Jason for who he is.

“Secondly, I don’t wear the symbol.” He said looking intensely at Bruce. “Not anymore at least. But I’m sure your dad would _love_ to tell you himself on why I kill. No doubt, he can make up some more lies about me. It’s what he’s good at.” Jason chuckled at the way Bruce twitched at the end of the table. If this was a fight, he was landing every punch.

He’ll be civil…for Alfred, but by no means will he lie down and take Bruce’s disapproval like a bitch. He’ll go pound for pound whatever excuse they give him. A dinner was not going to wash away 8 years of bullshit.

“But…” Cassandra’s voice perked up. “Killing…bad.”

Jason smiled faintly at her. He had no qualms against her and knew about her backstory, needless to say, despite the difference in views, he was impressed. She rejected the role that was forced onto her at a young age and fought against such evils, but Jason and his upbringing was different.

“Exactly.” He agreed. “Killing is bad.”

That caused some confusion around the group. With creased eyebrows, Cassandra asked again. “Then…why?”

“Because it’s a necessary evil.” He explained. “I don’t take pleasure in taking someone’s life, and I certainly don’t go out looking for it, but I understand the necessity in removing certain people so the rest of humanity can thrive.”

“I’m not a Wayne or a Drake or even a Grayson.” He continued. “I grew up in the slums of the worst humanity had to offer and learnt from an early age that in order to do good, then I must do some bad. I stole, I hurt, I… _offered myself…_ ” Everyone shuddered at the thought. “Do I hate the things I did? Definitely. Do I regret it? No. No I do not, because I understood that in order to live, I had to take.”

The group stared down at their plates, feeling horrible with their entitlement. “I’m not like Bruce or Dick who learnt to fight in order to serve justice. I learnt it to survive. And there are people out there that want to survive, so I’ll do some bad so they can live.”

Cassandra was obviously torn. It almost made him feel bad looking at the dejected expression on her face. “Look…” He said softly, earning her gaze. “I’m not saying I’m right and you’re wrong. You’re allowed your views just like I’m allowed mine. All I’m telling you is that there is more than one way to achieve something. Just like there is more than one way to fight crime. You’re a vigilante and I’m a soldier. Two sides of the same coin, aiming for the same objective.”

Her gaze softened, not fully because she still held firmly on her belief, but she accepted that Jason was right. Two plus two was not the only way to achieve four.

Jason found it highly amusing as he could literally hear Bruce’s teeth grate together. In his eyes, Jason had just corrupted his daughter about morality and ethics. _All_ of which is of no concern to Jason.

He stated facts. It was up to Cassandra to accept it or not. Not Bruce.

“There is something that has been bothering me…” Dick finally spoke up, his curiosity dominating his guilt. “Where did you learn to fight like that? I understand Special Forces are good at what they do but what you showed us was something else.”

“Oh! Slade trained me.” Jason answered, nonchalantly, not really caring too much about the topic.

The same thing couldn’t be said with the head of the family, whose knuckles were turning into an icy white around his fork.

“Slade?” Batman, not Bruce, growled out.

Sensing the obvious jump to conclusion Bruce was no doubt making, Jason interjected. “Hold you horses there, old man. It’s not like he tracked me down and corrupted me. I know you love blaming everyone but yourself about my life choices, but for the love of god, calm the fuck down.” He teased, loving the way Bruce flinched.

It was amusing watching the exchange as Bruce was chastised by someone many years his junior. Jason had learnt from Alfred well.

“I saved his life. He owed me a favour.” He shrugged. That was all Jason was going to say on that matter. They didn’t need to know the who, what, when, where and why’s.

At the drop of a hat, those around the dining table instantly understood his words.

Life debts, particularly those within the mercenary world, were a serious matter. There is no honour among thieves, but that cannot be said about mercenaries. Reputation and loyalty meant everything and Slade Wilson was known for such characteristics. He was brutal, efficient but most importantly, incorruptible.

If he accepted a mission, he finishes it.

And like that, everything seemed to click. The firearms handling, the martial arts, the tactical warfare. Everything seemed so obvious and for a brief and terrifying moment, they didn’t see Jason sitting there with them.

They saw Deathstroke.

~

Dinner finishes rather quickly, and before anyone could decide anything, Jason stands up abruptly and ushers Barbara along.

She’s confused, curious and humoured greatly at the request.

He takes her hand and drags her away from the group. Barbara lets out a startled laugh knowing full well what this looks like and how the family would react to it.

A tall, handsome boy and a beautiful girl all on their lonesome?

For a second, she wondered if he realised it as well, until he peeks over his shoulder and gives her that damn grin, and she laughs even harder. Leave it to Jason Peter Todd to pull this kind of stunt.

They can feel the eyes on them until they turn a corner, and laugh uproariously at Dick’s squeak of protest. But they continue onwards, eventually running and skipping their way around the Manor, until they reach the spare study at the far end of the west wing.

She sends him a raised eyebrow and he smirks in reply as he opens the doors revealing the cosy little library they would usually hang out in when she used to tutor him.

“You know they’re gonna ask questions, right?” She asks, smirking at his shenanigans.

“Oh, I know.” He replies cheekily. “But by the time they do, I’ll be back in England, leaving you to the wolves.”

She mockingly gasps. “How could you?!” She exclaimed, resisting the urge to giggle.

Jason grins, bright and playful, just like eight years ago and moves towards the selection of vinyl covers and picks one up gently before putting it in the record player.

She raises an eyebrow, wondering what’s happening but before she could ask, he takes her hand, gentle and firm, and hugs her impossibly close, letting his actions tell a story eight years in the making.

She looks into his eyes, and oxygen escapes her completely, as it takes her back to a time where it was just the two of them.

Batgirl and Robin vs. the world.

“Are you trying to woo me, Jason?” She teases, flirtatiously.

He rolls his eyes in response. “Kind of. I got Alfred to teach me how to ballroom dance in the hopes of impressing you at the latest gala. Didn’t go to plan with the…you know. Figured better late than never.”

And she does know. It was a weird part of her life. An incomplete part of her life that she didn’t like.

But it doesn’t stop the flood of warmth embrace her at the thought of a little Jason charming her socks off at a Wayne Gala. Those things were an absolute bore but with Jason, the little shit, he would always go out of his way to make her laugh and god help any rich smuck who decided to hit on her.

She didn’t care that he had grown up, she didn’t care that she had to look up to stare at him.

All she remembers is that little Robin sailing in the air, of her little brother that thought the world of her, who lit up her night just being next to her.

Looking at him, she can tell he sees it as well. Her hair, her toned shoulders, her fierce eyes.

And she will admit, that it does hurt knowing they will never be like that again. But that’s life, she guesses. People grow up, things change but as long they’re still family, then that’s all she cares about.

“I’m sorry.”

It was so abrupt that she had no idea what he was saying. Seeing the confusion on her face, he explains.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when…when you lost your legs.”

_Oh…_

Barbara stayed silent for a bit, remembering the hurt and betrayal she felt. He didn’t visit, he didn’t call, not even a damn text.

“I…I was so mad at you.” Her voice wobbled, feeling Jason twitch against her. “I needed you. I needed my family and you weren’t there.”

“I – ”

“But…after I calmed down, I felt so selfish and so stupid that I never thought what was happening to you. That I was so focused on myself when you could have been captured, hurt, or even dead and I…” She felt tears threatening to fall.

“Hey, hey.” Jason gently grabbed her chin. “Don’t blame yourself for any of it. I was a stupid kid…hell, I still am.” She huffed a laugh. “…I was scared. Scared of how you thought of me. Scared of the look of disappointment on Alfred’s face. I was scared to come back because of _everything._ So I made the dumbass decision to not do anything, and I realise now how stupid that was.”

She nodded at him, wiping a tear away. “When I got my legs back, I cried that day. Not only because I could walk again, but because you sent me that postcard. I was so happy that you were okay, that you were alive and well.”

“Barbie…”

“Promise me.” She declared. “I’ll forgive you only if you promise me that you’ll call and visit me regularly. I need to know you’re okay.”

He stared at her before wrapping his arms around her firmly. “I promise.”

Barbara nodded into his chest and restarted their dance. She took comfort in his figure, nursing herself impossibly closer and just listened. Listened to the melody, his breaths and his heart.

Alive, robust and at ease.

Letting herself be taken away, her lips quivered upwards into a smile that was only reserved for family.

~

Dick didn’t exactly know what he was feeling.

The guilt was definitely there, there was something else…something dark.

Jason. Snarky, little shit Jason had grown up, taller than him and truth be told, Dick was a little intimidated. Not from the beating he endured the week previously but the way Jason held himself.

With pride, with confidence, with absolute respect.

He had known about Jason’s insecurities when they were younger. The kid thought of everything as a competition, wanting to prove himself to Bruce in fear of being thrown out and Dick, in his asshole, rebel phase completely ignored it. Too angry to care.

It will always be a dark stigma of his past that he never truly cared about Jason. The fights with Bruce were one thing, but dragging Jason into it was lowly and pathetic.

He still remembers the day Jason ran away. Bruce was desperate to find him, to search every corner of the globe for him and Dick didn’t give two shits. A feeling of shame washed over him at the memory of how he reacted. Smugly admitting that Jason was a murderer and he was never going to amount to anything.

Barbara broke his nose that day.

And now Jason was back. Grown up. Strong. Completely and absolutely independent.

Whatever insecurities he once had was replaced with an aura of maturity and wisdom. His eyes were alive and robust, but with a sharpness that made him look far older than he actually was.

Watching Jason and Barbara into the living room, hand in hand, smiling without restraint made him feel a jealous pain he never knew he had.

He didn’t admit it often, but Dick knew he treated Jason unfairly. The kid needed a brother and Dick wasn’t it. Once Tim and Damian came into his life, he made the promise that he’ll be a brother for them in a way he wasn’t for Jason.

“Heya, Jason?” Dick asked hesitantly, getting the younger man’s attention. “Can we talk? In private?”

Dick flinched at how Jason sighed in annoyance at the request. It hurt Dick knowing that even though Jason had matured, their relationship was still a dark part of Jason’s life that he stopped caring about.

“Sure.” Jason answered quickly.

Gulping away his hesitation, they made their way towards the small conservatory that held the spare acoustic piano.

Shutting the door gently, Dick turned around the see the younger man sitting by the piano, fingers tracing the grooves of the keys. “So what did you want to talk about, Dick?” Jason asked tensely but didn’t turn around.

“Um…I just…I know we never really got off on the right foot.”

Jason scoffed at his words. “Understatement of the year.”

Dick stood there nervously. “Right…Right. I know I wasn’t the greatest brother or even person when you lived here…”

“Greatest?” Jason perked up, still facing the far wall. “You weren’t even an _okay_ brother.”

Dick flinched at the remark and nodded, even if Jason couldn’t see it. “I know…I know.” He said slowly, guilt swarming him, blackening his soul. “And I just wanted to say I’m sorry and maybe be the brother you need me to be?”

He wanted to slap himself on how unsure he sounded. Dick came in with an apology but ended up asking a question.

They stayed in their positions for a tense moment before Jason sighed a deep and heavy breathe. Turning around so his ocean blue eyes could meet Dick’s sky blue, Jason answered with a question of his own.

“Look I appreciate that you pulled your head out of your ass far enough to see how much of a dick you were, Dick. But do you know what I learnt about guilt during these past eight years?”

Dick slowly sat down, knowing his legs would not be able to handle the weight of Jason’s next words. “Guilt is a feeling of despair and self-hatred because you feel bad for inflicting emotional or physical pain to someone.” Jason explained slowly. Dick creased his eyebrows in confusion, unsure of where this conversation was going.

“This apology and hopeful need to be my brother isn’t because you _actually_ want to be my brother. It’s because you want to appease your own pain and try to force yourself into my life so you can feel better about yourself. That there is someone out there that hates you and you can’t have your perfect image smeared so you _have_ to fix it.”

“Jay…” Dick tried to counter. “That’s not true. I do. I swear, I really do.”

Jason chuckled at his statement, but there was no humour in his voice. “Eight years and you still suck at lying. Let me ask you this. If you really cared, if you truly wanted to be my brother, did you even try to look for me all these years? Or did you keep on thinking I was this mindless murderer than couldn’t be saved?”

Dick didn’t answer. Or rather, he couldn’t, because Jason was right. He needed a fucking Lasso of Truth to see the error of his ways.

How many criminals has he forgiven? How many people has he spared from judgement? Time and time again, he saw the best in others but Jason? He never cared about Jason until now.

For eight years, he never looked for Jason. He used Gargonaz’s death as a poor excuse to turn a blind eye and never look into himself for answers because he was afraid of what he would find. That he used a death to keep his guilt away. That he pushed away a brother and was too scared to admit it.

_So many mistakes. So many fucking, stupid, asinine, mistakes._

“Look.” Jason said softly. “It’s not that I’m not happy that you finally pulled your head out of your ass and apologize. I do. But we’re not brothers, we’re not even friends for fuck’s sake. I can’t even listen to Romani the same because of you.” Jason explained and Dick flinched in kind.

Dick was so stupid, so short sighted to appease his own guilt that he didn’t look at the facts. How can they be brothers if they didn’t truly know each other?

“Wait…Romani?” He asked confused.

Jason sighed, drooping his shoulders down. “It was one of the first languages I learnt when I came to live here.” Dick’s eyes widened in response. “We didn’t really hit it off, so I asked Bruce to teach me in order to have something in common with you.”

And like a blinding light, memories flooded back to a late April night when Dick had just came back to Gotham, not doubt to scream at Bruce again. Jason had been waiting for him in the kitchen.

Dick didn’t give him a time of day until the young boy tried to initiate a conversation in his mother tongue. He had been so shocked and so surprised at Jason that night. Whatever bewilderment he had, was quenched in white fury.

Dick closed his eyes in shame at the memory. At the look on Jason’s face when he screamed at him. At how he was unworthy of ever saying those words. At how he was disrespecting his heritage. At how he passed Jason’s room later that night and smiled, he _fucking_ smiled at the sounds of Jason’s cries.

Looking back, that was the night that broke whatever ‘brotherly’ interactions they had onwards. From then on, it became a war of passive aggressive pranks and screaming matches.

“Jason…I’m so so– ”

“Do you know how hard it is to _un-_ hate a language?” Jason asked incredulously. “Do you know how many missions I almost failed? How much intel I almost ruined whenever I hear Romani? Because all I can hear is that night.”

Dick tried to swallow his shame, but his throat felt dry, itching and aching away.

Shaking his head in frustration, Jason explained. “I get it. I get why you hated me, and for the most part I forgive you because I was just collateral between you and Bruce’s bitching. But the moment you made it my problem, the moment you started blaming me for everything that went wrong with your life, was the moment I stopped looking up to you.”

Dick’s head whipped upwards in surprise. _Jason looked up to me?_ His heart was jackhammering against his chest, feeling the weight of his actions crush him.

How does one come back from this?

Can he come back from this?

Should he?

With weak, wobbling knees, he left, leaving his apology to float away with the cold Gotham night. Some day they might be acquaintances, maybe even friends.

But not tonight, and certainly not as brothers.

~

Jason sighed, as he slouched back onto the piano seat.

Dick looked dejected when he walked out and with good reason. Family was everything to him and for Jason to reject him was a crushing blow to his ego.

But he needed to learn, he needed to understand the difference between easing his guilt and actually wanting to connect with someone.

“Hey…You okay?” A voice broke him out of his mental tirade. Looking over to the opposite door, Tim stood there questioningly.

Shaking away his thoughts, Jason put on a faint smile and ushered the younger man in. “It’s nothing. What’s up, little man?”

“I’m not that little.” Tim rolled his eyes, amused.

“Dude, you’re as thick as a twig with the weight to match.” Jason teased. “What do you even eat?”

Tim laughed at his playfulness, walking in and sitting on one of the leisure chairs by the corner. Jason sat next to him. “Coffee and Red Bulls, mainly.”

Jason stared dumbly at him, as if that was the most retarded answer in the world. “I said _eat._ Not drink. Do you even take care of yourself? How are you even alive?”

The teen stared downwards…pouting? It was kind of adorable watching Red Robin pout. “With looking after WE and leading the Titans, I don’t really have time for anything else.”

“So?” Jason asked surprised. “That’s not an excuse to not look after your health. It’s okay to take some time off for yourself.”

Tim scoffed at the statement. “Tell that to Batman.”

“Fuck Batman.” Jason dismissed. “I’m telling you this. I get that you got your workaholic tendencies from Bruce, hell, we all have, but you’re allowed to have some me-time.”

“But work…”

“Oh my god.” Jason face palmed himself. “There is more to life than work.” Tim looked like he was about to argue, but Jason brought his hand up silencing the younger man. “No. Shut up and listen. Jason and his big boys pants are going to give you some advice and you’re going to fucking listen.”

Jason looked sternly at Tim, waiting for him to interject. Thankfully he didn’t. “Why do you have a team?”

“Wha?” Tim reeled back, surprised where this was going. “What does that have anything to do with this?”

“Why do you have a team?” Jason asked again, punctuating each word.

The other boy stayed quiet for a bit, actually thinking of the answer. “Because they bring a unique outlook and skillset to the mission.” He answered, eyeing Jason carefully.

“And?” Jason urged on.

Tim sighed, finally understanding what he was saying. “And I trust them.”

“Bingo.” Jason clapped with gusto. “Because you trust them. Because they can do things you can’t. Because when shit hits the fan, you know who you can turn to.”

“But what does this have to do with my eating habits?”

“It has everything to do with your eating habits.” Jason exclaimed. “Oh my god. Look, your team is there for a reason. They’re good at what they do and even if they can’t do detective work as well as you, it doesn’t mean they’re incompetent.”

Tim slowly nodded in agreement, still apprehensive on the idea. “They’re your friends. They understand if you need a breather every now and again. Hell, I bet they force you to stop whenever you fall down the rabbit hole, right?”

Tim chuckled in confirmation. “Yeah…”

“So let them. Go have a drink one night. Get rowdy. Go hook up with a chick you met on Tinder. Actually, ask Stephanie out on a date.” Tim blanched at the thought, his cheeks reddening at the thought. “Oh, don’t give me that. I have eyes. I can see how you too look at each other.”

“We tried the dating scene for a bit. It didn’t work out well.” Tim answered truthfully. “I was too invested into my work for any relationship.”

Jason gave the young man a _there you go_ gesture and Tim laughed at the thought. “Okay. Fine. Fine. I’ll try and take some time off.”

Jason grinned at the win and Tim used that momentum to ask a question of his own. “Potentially awkward question…” His voice dripping with nerves. “Why did you give up on Robin?”

“Wow, you like to go for the balls, don’t you, replacement?” Jason asked, clearly surprised.

“Look, sorry if it’s too direct – ”

“Hold it.” Jason stopped him. “I didn’t say fuck off, I just didn’t think you would go there tonight.”

“Right, sorry.”

“And stop apologizing so much. It’s a little sad.” He smirked. Tim rolled his eyes, smirking, but kept quiet. Jason sighed as he thought of an answer.

“How could I believe in something, when they man who brought me into this life took it away from me?”

The younger man looked at him questioningly. “I get that you were hurt that Bruce didn’t trust you, but you could have stayed, rebuilt, maybe even got a new codename. I don’t see why you still needed to run.

Jason raised his eyebrow. “You’re stating this as if I had scraped my knee and should have casually walked it off. I wasn’t hurt. I was _devastated._ Robin meant everything to me. It made me feel special, like nothing could touch me. Like I was king of the world. And for a brief moment, I was.”

“I still don’t – ”

“I read the reports.” Jason interjected. “When Bruce supposedly died, Batman still patrolled Gotham for months alongside Robin.”

Tim paled, knowing full well where Jason was going. “But at the same time, a new hero popped up to fill the void. You, Tim, took on the moniker of Red Robin.”

Time stayed quiet, his heartbeat racing hearing the bluntness in Jason’s voice. “I asked myself. Now why would Tim Drake even need to change aliases? But like a dawning light, it seemed so obvious.”

_No, don’t say it._

“Dick took Robin away from you.”

Tim flinched at the memory, Jason’s voice as like a hammer on a coffin nail. Loud, strong, deathly resolute. “Tell me. At that moment, how did you feel?” He asked tensely.

The teen stayed silent, feeling the crushing weight of Jason’s words hitting him with animosity. “Like nothing. I felt like nothing. Just every day, _average,_ Tim Drake.”

“Exactly.” Jason almost whispered. No doubt his own memories, coming back and eating him alive. “Robin made us feel like we were worth something, and when you’re mentor, the man you consider your father or brother takes away the one thing that made you feel special, it left you with nothing.”

“And I’m sure Dick eventually told you some sob story of how he saw you as a partner and not a sidekick, and how you were old enough to make a name of yourself, but it still didn’t fully take away the heartache of something you cherished being ripped away from you.”

Tim nodded slowly, his breathes were deep and shaking. “Robin gave me magic.”

Jason scoffed at the memory. “Yeah it did…but do you know what I learnt this last eight years?” The other boy looked at him curiously. “It’s all bullshit.”

“Wha? How could you say that?” Tim argued, anger boiling inside him that his hero rejected the honour.

“Because it’s the truth.” Jason deadpanned. “Bruce and Dick crammed it into our heads about how Robin makes you special, about how being Robin is an honour. It’s a load of crap.” Jason stared blankly. “Robin isn’t a detective. Robin isn’t a fighter. Robin can’t drive a tank. Robin can’t do shit.”

“Robin is all of that!” Tim practically shouted. “I can do all that and more!”

“Exactly.” Jason snapped. “ _You_ can do that. _Tim Drake_ is a detective. _Tim Drake_ is a fighter. _Tim Drake_ is a hero. Robin is a costume, but Tim Drake is the boy who can fly.”

Tim’s mind came to a screeching halt listening to Jason’s words. He wanted to deny it, to say that Jason was wrong, that Robin gave him magic. But Jason didn’t give him a chance.

“That’s the problem with Bruce. He operates with two identities. Bruce Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprise or Batman, the Dark Knight. There is no in-between for him. But all of _this_ …”Jason waved around.” …Is a façade, a mask. It’s not the truth.”

“When I removed myself from this environment. When I stepped back and _actually_ looked at the big picture, I realised that Robin didn’t make me special. _I_ made Robin special.”

Everything in Tim’s head was a mess. The walls were closing in, the heat of the room was rising. Everything felt wrong but so, _so_ right at the same time.

Did he really do that? Did he make Robin special?

With a low, and sympathetic voice, Jason continued on. “I get that you’re having a meltdown right now, you look like you’re about to faint, but I’ll just give you one more point to think on…” Tim didn’t want to look up, as if it was the greatest betrayal to the Robin legacy, but he had to, he _needed to_.

“I won’t deny it, for a good while I believed in magic…”Jason stayed quiet for a bit, letting the dread seep into Tim’s bones. “But I’m sure you’ve been around Zatanna long enough to learn that all magic comes with a price.”

And as if the sky fell down, everything inside Tim just crashed. “I learnt what my price was.” Jason said, before getting up and slowly leaving.

“It’s time you learnt yours.”

~

Kate and Alfred finds him in the kitchen grabbing a glass of water.

He turns his head and sends a fond smile. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Not much.” Kate responds. “We just wanted to talk with you. Barbara took most of your attention tonight.” She said with a devilish smirk.

Jason rolls his eyes in mirth. First Dick and now Kate? His little game was a little _too_ effective. “What can you say? It’s the bad boy charm.” He shrugs fondly.

The woman chuckles at his remark and takes a seat beside him whilst Alfred walks to the corner cabinet and rummages around.

Jason raises an eyebrow, because something was up. “Not that I don’t like having you around but…what’s going on?”

“As you are fully aware. Out of all the individuals in this household, only Miss Kane and I are the only ones who have truly served within the military.” Explained Alfred, pulling out the bottle of whisky he normally hides for special occasions.

“We wish to converse with you about your achievements without Master Bruce’s disapproval of the subject.” He explained stoically.

Jason huffed in amusement, because it was true. Kate and Alfred had no qualms with guns or killing, understanding that this life Jason has created was an admirable pursuit. “Yeah…I’d like that.”

Alfred nodded gently, and proceeded to pour into three separate glasses for the trio. “Is that a new bottle?” Jason asked.

The old butler practically halted in his tracks, hiding the shock on his face. “What do you mean new bottle, Master Jason?”

“Oh, come on.” Jason replied cheekily. “You live in a household of detective ninjas. Did you really think we didn’t know it was there?”

Alfred eyed Jason for a while before sighing in defeat. “I suppose you are right, Master Jason. However, I hope that you didn’t partake in the consumption of this bottle?” He asked tersely.

Jason eyed the counter meekly, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Kate laughed uproariously at Alfred’s stern look of horror and disapproval. “Master Jason.”

“It was sitting right there!” Jason protested. “What did you think I would do? _Not_ drink it?” He laughed at the thought. As if it was the craziest idea ever.

Alfred huffed in disappointment, but carried on. He figured there was no point now, as he was old enough to partake, but Jason wasn’t finished. “Another reason why I love England so much. Drinking age is only 18.”

Kate was practically rolling on the floor, loving Jason’s cocky bravado in the face of Alfred. The old man sighed in defeat. “It seems I have lived in the United States far too long to forget about _that_ particular law. I cannot judge you for such decisions as it would be hypocritical on my part, as I have done the same.”

Jason grinned widely, but stayed silent, not wanting to push his victory. “Now, Jason.” Kate hiccupped her laughs away, leaning and taking a glass. “Spill.”

He chuckles in response, and quickly downs the glass. “You’re gonna need more than one glass.” He smiles mischievously and the pair immediately perk up in interest.

~

It felt…good, openly talking about his time in the army.

It also felt weird having a Bat punching him in the shoulder with pride listening to his stories. Everything felt contradictive but he merely shrugged the doubt away, letting the warm feeling in his heart spread.

Kate was an amazing listener with terrifying and amazing stories of her own but Jason just couldn’t get enough of the fondness and pride in Alfred’s eyes. As if it was a silent confirmation that he did the right thing. That running away and joining the army was an admirable decision.

Once, the laughter and stories settled, the stayed in comfortable silence reminiscing of good and bad times.

“ _Qui audet adipiscitur_ ”

Jason chuckled at Alfred’s words, memories falling back to the days where he grew closer with his brother’s in arms, shouting their motto with vigour. “Who Dares, Win.”

Alfred hummed in wistful agreement and gently raised a toast. “For those who live and breathe the battlefield. For those who seek glory and honour. May we send them our gratitude for the service they provide, so they are filled with the conviction they need to carry on. Fortune favours the bold. May he who dares find victory.”

“Hoorah.” Jason and Kate whispered, raising their glass before taking a swift ceremonial glug of their drinks.

A comfortable silence followed. Something only those who have truly have served could only understand, as they looked back at the brethren who had laughed, lived, loved and died for their country.

He reminisces about his own friends. The ones he could and couldn’t save.

He remembers the small glass case, neatly line with dog tags of fallen soldiers, in his London apartment.

The boys and girls that were just like him, ones without a home, or family or purpose but had found their way together.

He misses them, by god does he miss them. Just like they would miss him if he was the one 6 feet under.

This life he has built certainly has its ups and downs but it is a good life. Surrounded by brothers that fight the same cause and victims that look at him with so much hope in their eyes that leaves him breathless.

It leaves him bruised and bloodied, broken down to an animal that survives on baser instincts, but he welcomes it with open arms, without a word of complaint, because he’ll bear all the ordeals the world throws at him, so others don’t.

But with pain comes harmony.

Overflowing with joy at the life and lives he had helped create. For himself, for others, for family.

Each interaction, each smile, each experience, each happy family helps remind him why he does what he does.

It’s not a perfect life, far from it, but he doesn’t care though because it’s his life…

And he loves it.

His train of thought is broken when they all hear the quick knocks on the timber walls. Turning around, Alfred greets the guest. “Yes, Master Bruce?”

Bruce walks in nervously, eyes flickering between the three before asking, although it sounded more like a demand. “Alfred. Kate. May I have a moment alone with Jason?”

The two in question turns their heads to the young man and after a tense moment nodded. This needed to happen.

Finishing off her drink, she pats Jason’s shoulder. “Good chat.”

He pats her arm in confirmation and nods at Alfred whilst he watches the duo leaving.

Sighing, he knew this was going to happen soon. The night was almost over.

Better get to it.

~

Bruce lingers there, even after Alfred and Kate leave and if Jason was being honest, it’s a little creepy.

Rolling his eyes, Jason figures he’ll have to be the one to start this…whatever _this_ is. “So are you going to keep standing there? Or…” He leaves the question hanging. It wasn’t his job to help Bruce learn how to talk to people…not anymore, at least.

The older man hesitates a little before making his way over and taking the seat previously used by Alfred. His eyes flicker between the ground and Jason, before taking a deep breath. “How are you?”

“I’m good.” He answers courteously. “You?”

Bruce twitches, obviously not prepared for the question which just seemed idiotic to Jason. What did he think was going to happen?

“I’m…I’m good.” He stutters out. “What have you been up to?”

Jason almost groans in annoyance. Bruce clearly didn’t prepare any topic materials before barging in. He huffs, knowing that he would have to throw a bone to the man. “Not much. I’m on vacation now, so I figured I should catch up on my reading and maybe see if I can get lucky at a nightclub.”

Bruce’s eyes widen at the statement, at hint of joy in his voice. “You go out clubbing? That’s…that’s good. You should enjoy your life as much as you can.”

“Yeah.” Jason agreed. “A few of my mates have been pestering me to join their next pub crawl. Hopefully we don’t get arrested again.”

“Again?” He stammers out, angry that one of his ‘kids’ would get arrested for anything.

Jason huffs a laugh at the memory. “One of my guys was flirting with this…supermodel? I think she was a supermodel. Anyway, turns out she had a boyfriend and the boyfriend had some friends. A few broken noses later, they were at the hospital and we were getting an absolute reeming from the sarge in a cell.”

Bruce stared shell shocked at the very idea before letting out a startled laugh that lead to a full bellied howl. The younger man stared happily and joined in, because it was a fun night and just thinking about it made him giggle.

As quick as their little moment happened, Bruce immediately shut himself down, Jason could sense hesitation in the man. “Spit it out, Bruce.” He ordered, without malice.

It was obvious the man was nervous. Wringing his hands, he eyed the floor a while before asking.

“Could we…is there a chance we can be a family again?” Bruce asked hesitantly. The boy…no, _man_ that had grown up well beyond his years, was sitting right next to him, but felt like this ghost he could never touch.

Jason lingered, slowly swirling his glass, the gears in his head grinding away wondering what if.

Eventually, he said. “No.”

The word didn’t reach Bruce immediately. He was too busy _actually_ looking at Jason, memorising his features. He looked at the way Jason held himself, open and proud, shoulder’s broad with confidence and a striking gaze that dared anyone to question him.

No longer did he need to shout to be heard. His presence demanded respect.

So naturally, it took a while before he finally understood what Jason had just said.

“Wha – ” Bruce fumbled out.

Noticing the twitch in Bruce’s eyes, Jason elaborated.

“Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate everything you did for me all those years back, I do.” Jason confessed. “A roof over my head, 3 square meals a day, school…fuck me, school.” He said, wistfully. “They were some of the best years of my life. Some of my greatest memories were of the times I called you dad.”

Bruce clenched his eyes hard, feeling his heart stutter. _Dad._

“Then why?” Bruce choked. “I know I screwed up when it came to you. That I could have prevented all of this if I would have just listened to you. But I realise my mistake, I know I failed, so why?”

Jason answered slowly but surely, without a hint of anger or malice. “Because you still haven’t learnt a damn thing.”

Bruce winced at how obvious Jason made it to be. “I see it with these kids, just like I saw it when I was 15. You still don’t know the difference between being a dad and being Batman. When things get too tough for _Bruce Wayne_ , you cut us off and switch to this emotionless asshole and expect your kids to jump when you order them to jump. Cassandra might be okay with it, since she can see your intentions through your actions. But Dick? Tim? Damian? Me? We can’t. We just see this brick wall who won’t listen to a thing we say.”

“I needed a father that day Bruce…but you gave me Batman. Hell, you didn’t even give me Batman.” The pain in his words rendered Bruce speechless. “And even though you finally realised it, you still haven’t changed. You can’t live without Batman and I can’t live with that false hope anymore, so no, we can’t be a family again.”

Jason turned around, his body faced Bruce with conviction and his eyes held a comfort Bruce didn’t deserve. “You screwed up with me and I don’t think I can trust you again because of it, but the others? You still have a chance with them. They don’t need Batman anymore. They’re strong, smart, resourceful, but they still need their father. Ask them about how their day went. Help them with their work. Take them to the park as a family….just be there for them, okay?”

Everything around Bruce was irrelevant now. He stared at the ground, unable to meet Jason’s eyes, because his mind kept reminding him how much of a failure he was.

With a sombre second, Jason composed himself and began to walk away. He stopped by the doorway as Bruce finally managed to speak up.

“It won’t be the full family.” A whisper of doubt and longing.

With a sorrowful expression, but holding a firm conviction, Jason continued onwards. “That’s your problem, Bruce. Not mine.”

~

“Master Jason. Can’t I persuade you to stay for the night? We have many spare rooms available and I’m sure Master Bruce would have a spare set of pyjamas your size.” Alfred doesn’t beg, but this is the closest he’ll go.

Shaking his head sadly, Jason responds. “Sorry Alfie. I already paid for the hotel. It would be a waste of money if I didn’t go.”

“But money is no pro– ” That was all Dick could say before Tim elbowed him sharply to the side.

Jason nodded in appreciation to the younger man, as he understood that this was Jason’s life and Jason’s money in question. The Wayne fortune had no place in that life.

He could see the ache in Alfred’s eyes as the old butler came to the same understanding. “Of course, Master Jason. Be sure to call often.” He requests before hugging the young man.

“I will.” Releasing his grip and turned to the red heads who pounced on him the first chance they could.

“You better keep that promise, otherwise I will find you.” Kate threatened whilst Barbara nodded vigorously into his shoulder.

Jason rolled in eyes in mirth, yet he didn’t reply. Merely hugging harder, lifting them off the ground laughing at how they squealed in surprise.

Dropping them to the ground, he courteously shakes the other’s hands goodbye. They all extend the same courtesy, expect for Steph. She tackles him in a hug, already attached to the other Gothamite.

He smiles down at her and rubs her back in confirmation, mentally telling himself to add her to his contacts.

Turning his attention to Bruce, he could tell the older man seemed dejected and wanted to hug him as well.

_Too bad._ Jason thought.

“Thanks for having me over.” He extends his hands and waits.

It was long, and quite frankly embarrassing that it took so long for Bruce to react. His grip is tentative, weak even, but Jason continues on, because this was it.

It was all over.

No more Bruce.

No more Manor.

Just Jason against the world. Gotham had always been too small for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, that took way longer than I expected it took.
> 
> Sorry that it's such a longer chapter. About 4 times as much as my average chapters but I kept getting ideas in my head, so I kept adding and now the piece is over 12,000 words.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading and enjoying it. I might make a sequel to this but that's further into the future, so don't get your hopes up.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I wrote this because I was having writers block with another story, so hopefully this helps me in some way.
> 
> The idea popped into my head after reading Love Yourself (So No One Has To) by AestuumMaris. It's a good read, so I highly suggest it.
> 
> I'm trying a different writing style so please tell me what you think, thank you.


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